


Cross that line

by dropshipheroes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, happy ending/hopeful ending, post 2x12, post rubicon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:45:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropshipheroes/pseuds/dropshipheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She sees him the moment after he sees her and her expression falters, mouth turning from grim appraisal into something soft and open, her eyes widening briefly with a look that echoes the feeling in his chest. He takes a stumbling step toward her but then there is another wave of people at his back and by the time they’ve passed the cold has crept back through him and he can’t seem to make himself move anymore. He looks at her again and this time all he sees is death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross that line

They escape the mountain.

Miller and Monty stumble out ahead of him with Harper supported between them, a nasty looking gash on her forehead but a smile on her face as she tips it up toward the sun. Jasper is by the entrance already, shouting encouragement to those still making their way out of the dark, directing them where to go when they hit open air, and Bellamy catches a glimpse of Echo disappearing into the tree line as he steps out of the tunnel completely.

The woods are loud and full, hundreds of people shouting and waving and many still aiming weapons and wary eyes at the mountain. He sees grounders and his own people standing side by side, which is still weird after all this time, but he’ll take it because they’ve _won_. This battle at least.

When he first sees Clarke he isn’t sure what he feels.

She’s suddenly there, across the clearing, with a grounder behind her who’s built like a tree, his barrel chest heaving and a scowl on his face for anyone who gets too close. He’s got a wicked looking knife in his hands too which goes a long way towards backing up the threat in his gaze, and so Clarke appears to be the eye of the storm – standing alone in the midst of chaos. His heart throbs painfully at the sight of her.

She sees him the moment after he sees her and her expression falters, mouth turning from grim appraisal into something soft and open, her eyes widening briefly with a look that echoes the feeling in his chest. He takes a stumbling step toward her, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she starts forward too, but then there is another wave of people at his back and by the time they’ve passed the cold has crept back through him and he can’t seem to make himself move anymore. He looks at her again and this time all he sees is death.

As if she’s read his mind (she always was too in tune with him to hide anything from her) she stops cold in her tracks, that half smile settling back into something sad and resigned. The grounder still guarding her back places a tentative hand on her shoulder but Clarke shrugs him off and squares her stance, eyes never leaving Bellamy’s as she pulls the invisible mantle of war leader back around her so tightly he feels it choking him to watch.

Bellamy is the first one to look away. It seems cowardly somehow to do it but he does all the same, unable to watch her turn to stone again before him and unwilling in this moment to try and stop it from happening. Things are not the same between them now as when she sent him into the mountain and he is not yet ready to deal with what comes next. Right now he wants to enjoy a little longer the sweetness of victory and fresh air, wants to find his sister and hold her again to assure himself of her continued existence, wants to make sure that his people are safe. He doesn’t want to deal with the way it hurts to look at her, or the fact that he still wants to almost more than anything.

When he looks back up she’s disappeared into the crowd. He hates that he’s thankful for that, for the chance to put off their reunion a little longer. But then Octavia is flinging herself into his arms and nothing else matters for a little while.

 

________________________________________

 

The walk back to Camp Jaha is a long one but there are many worse off than him and so he fills the time lending an arm or a shoulder to those that need it. He even takes a turn carrying the end of a stretcher despite the cut he can feel still dripping blood down his back. Miller glares at him when he catches sight of that but doesn’t say anything for which Bellamy is grateful. He needs to feel useful right now, to still be helping. More than anything though maybe he needs an excuse not to seek her out.

The excuses dry up when they reach the gates and the worst of the wounded are herded toward the medical tents. Bellamy thinks about just heading to the other side of camp and finding a place to crash but Miller is done cutting him any slack and ropes an arm around his waist to pull him with them as he and Monty half carry Harper toward where Jackson is setting up a triage. Bellamy sighs but doesn’t fight it. He’s pretty sure he’s going to need the stitches, and avoiding them just to avoid her is too much a coward’s act for him to swallow. 

Besides, despite the pit in his stomach he cannot deny that he _wants_ to see her again too, which is maybe scariest of all.

Jackson lifts his shirt to inspect the gash before nodding them to a smaller tent further down the way where those with non-critical injuries are lining up. Harper is taken inside the big tent immediately which seems to relieve Monty though he himself waves off Jackson’s direction and joins Bellamy and Miller in line at the smaller tent as well instead. The three of them don’t speak as they wait, too much on their minds for small talk and too much in their hearts for honest conversation, but Bellamy is comforted by their presence anyway. He has missed his people.

He puts off the inevitable a little longer by forcing both Monty and Miller into the tent ahead of him but too soon their minor injuries are dealt with and he has nothing ahead of him any longer but the flap of the tent and the flickering light from the lantern inside.

Clarke’s back is to him when he ducks in and he’s grateful for the moment it gives him to just watch her. With her turned away it is easier to pretend there are not new obstacles between them to overcome, and to simple bask in the fact that she is alive, that _he_ is alive and here to see her again. He remembers well those long hours after the missile hit when he had thought her dead, and even with betrayal eating a hole in his gut he cannot ignore the relief it gives him even now to see her breathing.

Her hair is dirty, pulled back into a messy braid, but it still shines in the lamp light like gold, making his fingers itch to touch it. When she turns he catches sight of a line of bruises running across her collarbone and up her neck to her hair line, and it bothers him that he does not know how she got them – that he was not there to stop it – even though he knows she is more than capable of taking care of herself. Her eyes are tired when they flit to his and he thinks maybe that is the problem. She’s so good at taking care of things that no one has been taking care of her.

If she’s surprised to see him she hides it well but she doesn’t smile again either. There is a wariness in her movements that belies the calm expression on her face and he feels her tension like friction against his own, sparking back to life that sick roll of hurt in his gut.

“Where are you injured?” she asks quietly after a moment, her eyes darting over him distractedly. They linger on the purpling around his eye but even she can see that injury is an older one. Her fingers twitch briefly anyway, like they want to reach up and touch his face, and he isn’t sure if he is disappointed or relieved when she doesn’t follow through.

He wants to say something to her but he doesn’t know what and so settles for pulling his shirt off over his head and turning so she can see his wound. She makes a soft noise when she sees it, air sucked in quickly between gritted teeth, but all she says is, “Sit,” indicating the low stool at her side.

Bellamy complies, and when her soft cool fingers touch against his skin he is glad to be facing the tent wall instead of her because he might just crumble otherwise. She pulls her fingers away briefly before coming back with something cool and wet, and he only flinches a few times as she cleans the cut as best she can. He concentrates on the feeling of her hand against him and closes his eyes, pictures turning and wrapping his arms around her middle instead and holding her tight and then tries to push the image away. Eventually she pulls back again and he can hear her rustling at the table of supplies, hears the telltale clink of metal and knows what is coming before she says, “This might hurt.”

The sting of moonshine on the open wound helps clear his head, chasing away the last of his fantasies and leaving him emptier than before. The burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest and he welcomes it. It doesn’t last long though, just a few cool splashes and then the quick pinch of a needle threading through his skin. She hadn’t warned him this time. Three weeks ago he would have teased her for her lack of bedside manner. Now he grits his teeth against the tug of his skin being pulled back together and wishes there was as easy an answer as this to putting her back together too.

The cut is deep but less than 6 inches across and before long the needle stops and Clarke is saying, “Finished,” in that quiet monotone that sounds so unlike her he kind of wants to scream.

When he turns she has busied herself at the table again, eyes averted and back to him once more, and he sighs heavily. He doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to put away the sting of betrayal lurking in his heart or how to cross the sudden distance between them. Isn’t sure he is ready to yet even if he did know how. What he does know is their current situation sits awkward and uncomfortable on his shoulders and he thinks maybe it would be better to be yelling at each other even than this.

He is too tired for arguments though, and the longer he looks at her the more he wants to hold her, which is only fueling the frustration and anger and hurt he feels inside, so he simply reaches for his shirt. She stiffens again when he stands and for a moment he thinks she’s going to let him walk out without another word but before he gets to the doorway she speaks.

“Bellamy…”

There is so much in her voice, loss and sorrow and frustration, that he has to close his eyes against it. She doesn’t say anything else, though she doesn’t need to really, every unspoken word and question between them wrapped up in the syllables of his name. He has a question though, one he knows the answer to already and has been determined not to ask. It comes out anyway.

“Tell me you knew she was safe,” he says, emotion choking his voice and keeping him from turning back to look at her. “Tell me you knew O got out before you left.”

She is quiet for a very long time and when she speaks her voice is cracked but sure.

“I can’t tell you that.”

Bellamy takes a deep breath that burns all the way into his lungs and nods once, sharp. He ignores the sound of her heartbreak when he steps back into the night again without a backward glance.

 

________________________________________

 

Any celebration of their victory over the mountain men is short lived.

Lexa is dead, killed by Cage himself in the final battle. To further complicate things she died taking a bullet meant for Clarke, which isn’t sitting well with the Woods clan. With their clan’s future leadership up in the air for the moment, and a lack of any clear direction, there is much unrest in both camps. Indra has taken temporary control until a new Heda is called to lead and she tells them that their shaky alliance is not guaranteed to last beyond that appointment.

“They don’t trust you,” she tells their hastily formed council (Bellamy is still surprised to have been included in it, and as Clarke has not met his eye since he walked in he is unsure if his place at this table is her doing or not.) “ _I_ don’t trust you,” Indra continues, glaring at them all without much heat. Bellamy is pretty sure she’s just saying it for effect, considering she is here at all with the warning, but none of them dare to call her on it.

Clarke is staring at her hands, twisted together in her lap, and Abby is glaring daggers at her daughter so it is Kane who speaks up, one arm still strapped to his chest and his ribs bound tight. “What do you suggest we do?”

Bellamy looks back to Indra who shrugs indifferently, but when her eyes dart to his sister standing at her side something in her demeanor softens and she relents a little. “For now nothing. Heal your people as we will heal ours. Try not to start another war.”

This last she adds with a fleeting but pointed glance in Clarke’s direction and Bellamy feels his spine stiffen in indignation. Even as he glares at Indra though there is a tiny flicker of anger still burning in his chest that whispers _maybe she’s right_ insidiously. He and Clarke haven’t spoken once since the med tent and considering how their last conversation ended he isn’t sure if he’s avoiding her or if it’s the other way around. Either way it sits heavy in his mind and makes it hard to sleep at night. He is afraid, though, that if he approaches her that tiny flame in his chest will burst into life and consume him with his anger and fear and doubt, burning the both of them until there is nothing left. So though he resents Indra’s look he stays quiet, something that he is sure Clarke notices if the renewed stiffness of her posture is anything to go by.

Kane is looking at Abby, like he is waiting for her to jump to her daughter’s defense, but Clarke’s mother is just as damningly silent and so with a sigh Kane is again the one to speak. “We can do that. But we need this truce to hold, and you should remind your people it is to their benefit as well if it does. Your clan is not the only one that has been shaken by this war.”

The implication is clear, the twelve clans are still smarting over their losses at Tondc and the Woods clan cannot afford more enemies if it comes to a fight. Indra looks unhappy at the reminder but nods her assent nevertheless before turning on her heel and making her exit. Octavia raises her eyebrows at him briefly but follows Indra out, and that is something he is never going to get used to – his sister, the grounder.

Kane sighs heavily when they are gone and glances around the table with a world-weary look that is well earned. “Well, that went about as well as could be expected,” he says attempting a smile that no one returns. He sighs again and turns to Clarke. “We need to make sure we keep up a dialogue between our groups while things are being decided,” he says, ignoring the death glare Abby is sending his way. “Is there anyone besides Lexa that you have a relationship with in their camp? Someone who might help us in maintaining relations?”

Clarke shakes her head almost immediately. “No.”

“What about your bodyguard?” Bellamy asks, unable to sit quiet anymore and feeling frustrated with her non-answer. “He’s still following you around like a second shadow.”

Clarke looks up at his sharp tone and her expression is sour when she answers. “Ryder follows me because it was the last order his Commander gave to him. When a new Commander is chosen he won’t hesitate to turn on us if that is what she asks.”

Bellamy snorts in disbelief, not because he thinks she’s wrong but because he doesn’t want to agree with her at this moment. He’s feeling irritable, like there’s an itch under his skin, and he kind of wants to pick a fight. It is stupid and childish but true. The fact that she is sitting there hardly reacting to anything going on around her isn’t helping, and he feels like poking at her until the opinionated, frustrating, living girl comes back out.

She ignores the sound and looks back down at her hands. Across the table Raven meets his gaze and raises one eyebrow at him though in admonishment or question he doesn’t know. He’s been avoiding her too, feeling pettily bitter about her complicity in keeping Octavia’s whereabouts from him, and so he isn’t sure where she and Clarke stand these days. Hell, he’s not sure where _any_ of them stand these days and frankly it’s exhausting.

Kane looks as tired as he feels, running his free hand over his face roughly. “Look,” Kane says after another moment of tense silence. “I know that the struggles we face are not just from the outside, and I know that things are not settled yet even here in this room. But we still have bigger problems ahead and we need to be together in this or we put everyone in this camp at risk.”

If the speech is meant to shame them into cooperation Bellamy isn’t sure it works, though he does feel a bit chagrinned at letting his emotions seep into the business at hand. Kane isn’t wrong, there are too many obstacles still ahead of them for infighting to break out now, and as much as he may feel on uneven ground with Clarke herself he still needs her too – she’s the only one of them that has managed to stand up to the adults so far, and regardless of the way things go with Indra and her people eventually they are going to have to address internal matters too, like how to run this camp. He’d rather have Clarke on his side when it comes time for that, even if he is still angry with her.

Abby doesn’t seem to share the sentiment though. The rough scrape of metal on metal as she pushes back her chair makes him wince, though it is nothing to the stormy expression on her face. “I can’t do this,” she says, and her voice carries so much disappointment and disgust that it makes even Bellamy feel sick.

“Abby,” Kane says plaintively, but Clarke interrupts.

“Let her go.”

Raven turns to Clarke then, appeal in her voice. “You don’t mean that,” she says but Clarke ignores her.

“If she can’t work with us then she should go,” Clarke repeats, her eyes dead and empty as they stare at her mother.

Abby stares back like she doesn’t know the girl in front of her anymore and from Raven’s defeated sigh Bellamy thinks this isn’t a new development. Clarke breaks the stare first but it isn’t a concession. Instead she turns that steely look out to the rest of the table. Bellamy has to fight the shiver that threatens to run down his spine when it reaches him.

“That goes for the rest of you too,” she says, and if he thought she sounded like a leader before, back when they were running things what feels like a lifetime ago, it is nothing to what she has become. She is frightening this way, no longer the girl he cares for but a stranger instead, hardened by battle and blood. “If you aren’t here to help then you should leave now instead of wasting all of our time.”

He feels like the words are meant for him even though her glance takes in everyone around them. Still, he stays in his place. He will not be scared off by her, no matter what she has become. No one else moves either, and with a heavy sigh Abby walks out of the room alone. Kane watches her go with regret but he doesn’t stop her, and when he turns back to Clarke it is clear who is in charge.

“So what do you suggest we do?” he asks her.

She hesitates then, just for a moment, biting her lip and looking hard at the table before her, and Bellamy sees a flash of the girl he remembers. The one who was in over her head from the moment they landed here but who fought for them all anyway. It makes the ache intensify and the anger dull and he wishes for the first time he had taken the chair next to her, the one that used to always be his, so that he could offer her even his silent support. In the next moment though her eyes come back up and all traces of that girl are gone.

When she begins to lay out their plan of action, mostly one involving offering aid to try and sow goodwill while fortifying defenses in case it doesn’t take, he doesn’t hear most of her words. Instead he finds himself just watching her, wondering if his friend is truly gone for good, and trying to decide if the pain of that thought is sharper than the one she’s caused him already.

 

________________________________________

 

Things around Camp Jaha are as normal as they can be for the next week and a half. Most of the 47 are in relatively good health all things considered, and those injured in the escape are healing well. Harper still has nightmares, but she’s taken to sleeping between Miller and Monty in the tent they’ve commandeered, which seems to help. Bellamy isn’t sure if there is something more going on there, between the three of them, but he is grateful that they’ve found comfort in each other no matter what form that comfort takes. 

It makes him feel a little lonely too, because as wonderful as it is having them all back there is a distance there now– one formed of experiences that he did not share in, and vice versa. They are all still feeling each other out, and being surrounded by the Arkers – some of whom are friends and family to the returned teens – makes it all the more complicated.

Those he wants to turn to himself are not so accessible anymore either. He and Raven mend fences quickly enough, but she is usually holed up in engineering with Wick and Bellamy is hesitant to intrude on their time. He doesn’t know Wick well but he seems to be helping Raven in her own healing and that is enough to put the guy on his good list. 

Octavia’s companionship is likewise hard to come by, as she spends most of her days at the new grounder camp, set up a mile from the crater which is all that’s left of Tondc. He’s been out there once, under the pretense of visiting her, and while their visit was nice if brief, he has to admit that really what he’d come for was to see the destruction of the village for himself, needing the visual of it to make it real to him. He’s not sure what he expected to feel when he saw it, but is surprised to find he doesn’t actually feel much at all. It’s grim to be sure, but after seeing the Exodus ship’s crash site and the aftermath of the dropship’s rockets on their old camp he finds that this is just more of the same. The difference is he didn’t lose anyone to this.

But he could have. Picturing Octavia buried in the rubble is enough to give him nightmares for the next three nights, and they along with the lack of sleep has put him closer to the edge he’s been avoiding. It also has the unfortunate side effect of making him clumsy, fatigue riding heavy in his muscles, which is how he ends up getting his fingers caught between two of the logs the work crew is rolling together to form the base of a cabin. He’s pretty sure they aren’t broken but the rest of the team won’t let him continue until he gets them checked out and so it is with grudging reluctance that he heads back to the medical tent.

He doesn’t expect to see her there, she spends most of her days pacing and strategizing in the temporary council room with Kane and anyone else they pull in with them, but he can’t say he’s exactly surprised either to find her sitting at the supply table sorting through vials. It seems his luck runs this way after all.

“Hey,” she says a little breathlessly when she sees him. There’s an edge of hopefulness in her voice to, and he realizes she thinks he’s come to seek her out specifically. He isn’t sure how he feels about that, ignores the guilt beginning to gnaw at his gut at the fact that if not for his hand he isn’t sure that he would have been in her company again voluntarily for quite some time.

“I smashed my fingers pretty good,” he says instead, voice gruff and eyes averted as he holds his swelling hand out to her. “I just need to know if they’re broken so I can get back to work.”

“Oh,” she says more quietly this time, trying and failing to mask her disappointment. She doesn’t linger on it though, slipping into doctor mode immediately and blanking her face of emotion. “Well, have a seat and I’ll take a look.”

He doesn’t particularly want to take a seat, but it feels like more effort than it’s worth to start a fight over it even if he can feel the urge bubbling under his skin. If she notices the struggle she doesn’t say, taking his hand when he holds it out again once seated, and probing at his fingers with her eyebrows drawn together and her lips pursed in a way that used to make him smile. 

“Ouch!” he says when she squeezes a particularly tender spot. He tries to pull his hand back but she holds firm which earns her a glare. 

Clarke rolls her eyes and almost smiles. “Stop being such a baby,” she teases him, and he grumbles back. For a moment it almost feels like old times and the ever present ache in his chest recedes a little. But then she looks up at him from under her lashes and smiles, hesitant and small, and he remembers why he can’t do this with her anymore, why it can’t be easy between them again just like that.

“Nothing’s broken,” she tells him, not noticing his change in mood, “Though you should probably tape these two fingers together for a day or two in case they’re sprained. I think the kitchen hauled some ice up from the river too, so you might be able to get some from them. It would help with the swelling.”

“Can I go back to work then?” he asks, knows his voice sounds surly but can’t help it.

Clarke looks startled, though she doesn’t drop his hand. When he tugs it out of her grasp she looks down at her now-empty fingers in surprise before turning a harder gaze back up at him. “What’s your problem?” she asks hotly, and he widens his eyes at her, feigning innocence.

He knows it will bother her more if he ignores her but he isn’t entirely sure he wants to unleash the anger still burning hot in his belly, and so all he says is, “No problem. But if we’re done here I’d like to get back to it.” He doesn’t beat the anger entirely though, can’t help but add, “Some of us have actual work to do around here you know, instead of playing at being chancellor.”

He’s not even sure why he says it, except that he knows it will get a reaction. It’s not like he actually has a problem with her taking care of the political side of things, and he isn’t dumb enough to think what she’s doing is a game. And maybe that’s the problem, none of this is a game and they aren’t children anymore, haven’t been for a long time. When he looks at her now all he sees is her choices and the worst part is he doesn’t know that he would have made different ones if he’d been in her shoes. 

He used to look at her and see the light. Now all he can see is his own darkness mirrored back at him.

Regardless of the reasons for his words they hit home, her mouth falling open in shock and her eyes lighting up with blue fire as she stares at him. “If you have a problem with how we’re running things, maybe you should show up to a damn meeting every once in a while and suggest something yourself!”

“Why? So that I can take more orders from you? Or do you just want me there so that you have someone to share the blame with when this all goes to hell again?”

The words hit her like a slap and he wants to take them back as soon as they are out. It is irrational, this desire to both hurt her and hold her all at once, and more than that he knows it isn’t fair. He thinks about all the times he has been the one with hell wrought behind him and in need of forgiveness and she has never failed to give it to him, to bring him back from his nightmares. He _knows_ this, he feels it, and he wishes he could be that for her again now too but this time all he can think of is Octavia and he cannot seem to get past that no matter how hard he tries.

“Maybe you should go,” she says quiet, deadly, cold seeping into her tone and her eyes. 

Bellamy scoffs. “Sure thing _princess_. Clearly you’re the one in charge here, after all.”

He expects her to ignore him, to glare at him in icy silence until he leaves, or maybe to yell at him some more. Hell, he wouldn’t even be all that surprised if she slapped him, isn’t entirely sure he doesn’t deserve it. What she says instead though is worse.

“Why are you doing this?” 

Her voice is still quiet but the edge is gone and she sounds soft and sad and lost again; his Clarke, slowly drowning. His throat is tight with shame and anger, and he hates himself a little more than he did yesterday for making her sound this way. But if they’re going to do this he isn’t going to hold back and finds the venom that has been sitting in his heart these past weeks spilling from his lips instead.

“You lied to me,” he tells her, voice just as quiet and just as hard as hers had been.

“I was trying to protect you!” she argues back. Her own voice is heating again, indignation written clear on her face and setting his teeth on edge. “If I had told you Octavia was at the village you wouldn’t have been able to do your job.”

“That wasn’t your call to make!” he insists, yelling now as the poison in his veins gives way to fire. “We were supposed to be partners Clarke, we were supposed to be a team. I _trusted_ you!”

“You trusted me to make the tough calls!” she shouts, her hands balling into tight fists at her sides and her eyes bright with emotion. “We were partners? Come on Bellamy, as soon as we ended up in this camp we both know you were looking to me for the answers. You wanted me to tell you how to fix this, so don’t act like me doing just that is some betrayal when we both know without me our people would be dead!”

“And because of you my sister almost _was_ dead!” he shouts back, nostrils flaring and jaw tight. “She could have _died_ and her death would have been on _your_ hands!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” 

Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water and he can feel his expression go slack, hands falling loosely at his sides. She stares hard at him for one long moment and he can see her there again, the girl he knows, screaming from behind her eyes. When they start to fill with tears she looks away and he feels helpless.

“I think about that every day,” she continues eventually, less loud but with just as much painful conviction in her voice. “Every single time I close my eyes all I can see is the blood on my hands Bellamy, and knowing that Octavia’s could have been there too kills me.” She takes a shaky breath and he wants to reach out to her but it feels like he’s forgotten how. When she looks up at him again the impulse fades, her eyes flat and empty in a way he doesn’t know how to fix. “But I did what I had to do,” she says softly even though the words feel heavy between them, building the wall that now exists there higher. “I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life, but it had to be done.”

He cannot read her expression then, can’t tell if she is looking to him for acceptance or absolution or anger, but he has none of any of it to give. He feels empty and tired, and so all that he has left to give her is the truth.

“I know,” he says at last. “I know you made the choice you had to make, and I know it was an impossible one. That’s what makes it so much worse,” he admits with a laugh that sounds nothing but sad. There are tears clinging to her bottom lashes when he makes himself meet her eyes again but he has to say this. “Because the thing is Clarke, knowing that? Doesn’t change the fact that I hate you a little bit for it and I don’t know how to stop.”

She sighs and it’s a shaky sound, one that mirrors the cracking in his heart and the tears burning behind his eyes. It hurts him, that sound, but it doesn’t change anything either. He still doesn’t know how to get past this and until he does there isn’t anywhere for them to go from here. 

“I guess there’s nothing left to say then,” she says eventually, crossing her arms to hide the trembling of her hands though he sees it anyway. He digs his injured fingers into his palm hard to keep himself from reaching for her when he has no comfort to give.

“I guess not,” he agrees.

He stands quickly then, the tent feeling claustrophobic and small now with the both of them and all of their words inside it. He almost gets to the door before she speaks again.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she says and her voice is raw. He can hear the weight of her choices in it, the loneliness those decisions have brought, and the last of his anger fades leaving only the hard stone of empty hate behind. It isn’t enough to make him turn around though.

“I’m sorry too,” he tells her before slipping out the tent door.

 

________________________________________

 

The next weeks go by slowly, and it isn’t just the shorter daylight hours that make his days feel darker.

He and Clarke avoid each other mostly, but he still sees her around the camp and whenever she appears he cannot help but watch her. He misses her, despite his inability to let go of that thorn of betrayal in his side, and it is harder than he had expected to know she is so close and yet so far. It makes him surly, and soon he finds himself eating at meal times alone, the rest of his friends driven away by his sour moods.

So when Raven sits across from him at dinner one night it is a surprise, though not an unwelcome one. That is until she fixes him with that Reyes look of grim determination and says, “Stop being an idiot.”

“Excuse me?” he asks, half laughing and glaring back in indignation.

Raven rolls her eyes and leans forward on her elbows. “Look I get it, okay? If anyone knows what it is like to have Clarke be willing to sacrifice someone you love for the ‘greater good’ or whatever it’s me. But unlike me, your person actually survived her making the tough calls, so get the fuck over it already. If I can forgive her then you should too.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbles though it lacks conviction. Raven can tell if her inelegant snort is anything to go by.

“Whatever,” she tells him with a shrug, “You want to hate her still I guess that’s your prerogative. But stop moping about it and bringing all of the rest of us down with you.”

“You think I want to feel this way?” he asks her, his voice heating again under the sting of her words. “You think I don’t wish I could just forgive her and move past this? But I can’t Raven, I don’t know how.”

Raven sighs and stares at him contemplatively for a long time. He lets her look, hoping maybe she’ll find some answer for him that he hasn’t seen himself. What she says eventually though isn’t at all what he expected.

“Do you love her?”

Bellamy chokes on his mouthful of moonshine and Raven slaps him on the back unhelpfully until he pushes her hand away.

“What?” he asks when he can breathe again, heart racing a little and feeling overexposed all of a sudden under her assessing eyes.

She rolls those eyes once more though and says, “Don’t get your panties in a twist Romeo, I’m not even talking about that kind of love. I mean do you love her the way all of us kids love each other you know? The way I love you guys.” She says this last a little roughly and avoids his eyes, clearly embarrassed at admitting to the emotion. He puts a hand over her own and squeezes once in reassurance, glad for the smile it earns him. “Well?” she asks after a moment though, clearly not letting him off the hook.

He takes a moment before he answers her even though he already knows what he’s going to say. It isn’t even a question really. “Yeah, I love her.”

“Well there you go,” Raven replies matter-of-factly, spreading her hands wide in front of her like she’s just laid the answers to his troubles at his feet. “If you love her you’ll figure out how to forgive her.”

“Oh it’s just that simple huh?” he asks sardonically.

She gives him a pointed look. “Yeah, Bellamy. It’s just that simple.”

With that she raps her knuckles on the table in front of her and tips her head in farewell, climbing stiffly from her seat and heading back over to the table in the corner where Wick is waiting for her. Bellamy watches her go and wonders if maybe it really can be that easy. He isn’t sure, but the surge of hope in his chest at the thought is a nice change.

 

________________________________________

 

He’s working on the roof of one of the newly constructed cabins, tying bundled branches into place against the support beams, when she shows up. The sun is out for once and it reflects blindingly off the thin layer of snow that’s showed up on the ground in the last few days so that he has to squint to see her when she calls his name.

“What do you need Clarke?” he asks, pleased when his voice sounds dull at least instead of angry.

She’s chewing on her lower lip and looking up at him almost nervously – it’s hard to tell with her hand shading her own eyes against the sun.

“I’m heading over to New Tondc tomorrow,” she says. “Indra sent a rider to let us know a new Commander has been chosen, and my presence is expected.”

“Okay?” he says, let’s the question in the word ring clear. It’s been a while since she ran these things past him and he’s not sure what’s brought her here again now.

Clarke hesitates for another moment, and when she speaks her words come out in a rush. “I thought you might like to come.”

That’s surprising, and despite himself he feels a pleasant warmth building in his chest at being asked. Maybe she misses him too, despite how tense things are between them still. “To Tondc?” he asks, needing another moment to really process that she’s asked him at all.

“Yeah.” She gives him one of those hesitant lopsided smiles though she quickly wipes it from her expression and plasters on a more neutral look instead. “You don’t have to, but I thought you might like to be there. You’d have a chance to see Octavia too.”

He knows she’s throwing in that last bit to sweeten the pot. It’s not like he can’t see his sister on his own and they both know it, so her adding it on as incentive says more about Clarke’s desire for him to come along than anything. Still, he thinks about it for a moment, waits for the anger or hurt to rear its ugly head and remind him that agreeing to a four hour ride with her is not the greatest idea. Nothing comes though, and that warmth is still a pleasant weight around his heart.

“Sure,” he agrees, surprising them both he thinks. “What time are we leaving?”

This time she cannot hide her smile even though she tries. “Just after sun up. The naming ceremony isn’t until dusk but there are talks beforehand.”

“Okay, sounds good,” he agrees and finds he is smiling back at her.

“Okay then,” she repeats back and for a moment they just look at each other. She’s the first to turn away, though she looks hesitant to do it. Before she can get too far he calls out to her.

“Hey Clarke?”

She turns back and looks at him, her expression guarded like she’s waiting for a blow. It hurts a little to know he’s given her reason to expect one, but he pushes that aside not wanting anything to sully the unexpected niceness of this moment. “Thanks for asking,” he says and when her smile comes back it feels brighter than the sun.

 

________________________________________

 

True to her word they leave camp just as the sun is cresting over the tree line. It’s cold enough out that he can see his breath in front of his face, and though he isn’t the biggest fan of riding the warmth of the horse beneath him isn’t entirely unwelcome either. Clarke is bundled up on her own horse beside him, her grounder guard on a mammoth beast just behind. Kane is leading their group and Kai, the rider Indra sent, is with them too, leading the pack. Abby is noticeably absent though no one else comments on it so Bellamy keeps his mouth shut.

They ride mostly in silence, Kai setting a fast enough pace that it’s all Bellamy can do to hold on and not think about how sore he is going to be later. Clarke’s horse is a steady presence beside him the whole time, though she herself doesn’t turn to look at him. He watches her though, unable to help but drink her in after so long away. Even wrapped in an excess of furs he can tell that she rides gracefully, as if she’d been doing it all her life, and he remembers the joy on her face so many months ago when she had first seen the creatures on that bridge, Anya riding out to meet them.

There is some of that joy present in her now, something free and a little wild in her expression that suits her. She is not that same girl from the bridge, but for the first time in a long time it doesn’t feel like such a bad thing. She is still _Clarke_ , which is maybe something he’s forgotten these last few months. 

Then Ryder says something to her in Trigedasleng and she smiles and replies, the words tripping off her tongue with an ease that surprises him and makes him realize anew just how little he actually knows her these days. The realization feels sharp in his chest and he spurs his horse forward until he is riding next to Kane instead for the rest of the journey, his mind full of memories he doesn’t know how to match up with the girl riding behind him any longer.

Octavia is waiting for them when they reach the village gates and she shouts in happy surprise when she sees him.

“I didn’t know you were coming big brother!” she says, hugging him tight before he manages to finish dismounting and almost causing them to fall into the icy slush on the ground. From the smug grins Ryder and Kai are giving him the near tumble hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Octavia scowls back at them and says something he cannot translate but seems to understand anyway just from her tone, and he laughs and pulls her into another hug because he has missed his haughty sister more than he realized. “It’s good to see you O,” he says sincerely and is rewarded with a bright grin.

It surprises him though when she pulls away from his embrace to walk to Clarke’s side, pulling the other girl into a hug as well that looks natural enough for him to know it’s not the first time it’s happened. Clarke looks genuinely happy to see the other girl, and if Octavia’s low chatter and quick laugh are any measure the feeling is mutual. He finds himself staring at them with his mouth open in disbelief, not quite able to parse their seemingly still close friendship with his own feelings. It’s not that O has ever told him she’s angry with Clarke over the events of the past, but he finds he’s always kind of assumed she shared in his feelings of betrayal. After all, it was her life that Clarke decided was an acceptable cost.

Before he can figure out how he feels about this shift in worldview Octavia turns back to him and beckons him to join them. He hesitates and while O’s look turns to confusion, Clarke’s face shutters closed as she leans in and says something softly to his sister, something that makes Octavia’s mouth tighten just like their mother’s used to when she was disappointed in him. Clarke moves off then with a last wistful half smile for them both, Ryder a shadow at her back, and by the time Bellamy moves back to his sister’s side she has her arms crossed and a dangerous look on her face.

“Tell me you aren’t still fighting with her,” she says severely and Bellamy sighs. He didn’t really want to do this today.

“We aren’t fighting,” he says lamely, “We just aren’t really friends anymore either.”

The punch she throws actually hurts, clearly something she’s perfected under Indra’s tutelage, and he rubs his arm and glares at her. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot,” she tells him matter-of-factly, striding into the village ahead of him and forcing him to hurry to follow. He wonders if she and Raven have been talking about him over those walkie-talkies.

“Look O, it isn’t a big deal,” he says even though he knows that isn’t really true. “Clarke and I don’t have to be friends okay? People change.”

“Yeah and you’ve changed into an idiot,” she agrees sweetly, ignoring his glare and dodging around the gathered groups they pass as she moves them further into the village.

“That’s not fair,” he argues, feeling suddenly defensive of his choices.

With a heavy sigh she stops, grabbing his arm and tugging him under an overhang and out of the crowd. “No Bell, what’s not fair is you still blaming her for something that _could_ have happened.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that really and so settles for pulling his arm from her grip to cross it in front of him, leaning back against the building behind them and staring out at the crowd. She mimics his posture, close enough to his side that he can feel her shoulder pressed into him.

“It had to be done,” she says after a moment.

“O-“

“No, just listen Bellamy,” she tells him, and he shuts up. “I’m not saying it didn’t hurt when I found out. Did you know I was one of the first people to see her that day when she showed up? I even asked her what was wrong and she didn’t say a thing. So yeah, finding out what she knew hurt and I was mad for a little while. But I’ve been learning a lot, as Indra’s second, and one of the things she’s taught me is that in war a leader cannot have friends, cannot have family. The only thing they can think about is winning, and sometimes winning has a high cost. What Clarke did saved us all, Bell. It saved _you_. I may not love that I could have been a casualty of that choice, but that doesn’t mean it was the wrong one. Mostly I’m just glad I wasn’t the one who had to make it.”

Bellamy sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, thinking about her words. It’s nothing he hasn’t thought himself really, but it feels different somehow hearing it from her. And the thing of it is after all this time he even mostly agrees, but as logical as the argument is and as right as he knows it feels none of it changes the fact that the trust built up between he and Clarke is gone now, and it is not something easily rebuilt by logic alone.

“Well?” Octavia asks him when he is quiet too long. “Are you gonna say something or are you so impressed with my maturity and wisdom that you’ve lost the ability to speak?”

He knocks his shoulder into hers in admonishment and smiles when that gets a crackle of laughter from her. “Look O, I get it,” he tells her, rolling his eyes at her skeptical look. “I do! Everything you’re saying I’ve thought myself, honestly.”

“So what’s the problem?” she asks him, and this time there is nothing in her voice but curiosity. “If you understand why she did what she did why aren’t you friends again yet?”

He thinks of how to phrase it, comes back to Raven’s words about love. “Even though my head gets it, my heart’s still having a little bit of a hard time,” he admits. “It isn’t even really about her choice anymore. It’s that knowing she can make that choice, it’s harder for me to open back up again you know? How do we get back what we had when I know if push comes to shove she’s capable of breaking it again if she thinks it serves the greater good?”

Octavia considers his words for a while before answering. “I don’t think you do,” she says, “Get back what you had I mean. Neither of you is the same anymore, so it would be stupid to try and reclaim who you used to be to each other. I think what you have to do now is forge something new, instead.”

“And the trust part?” he asks. Octavia shrugs.

“You were willing to die for her before all of this,” she says, and Bellamy has to look away from her at that because it’s true, is still true probably despite everything and he’s pretty sure O knows it. “If that hasn’t changed, if you’d still trust her with your life and your death, then how can you not trust her with the rest of it?”

It sounds so simple when she says it like that, just as simple as it sounded when Raven asked _‘Do you love her?’_ and Bellamy finds he’s losing all the reasons to complicate it. The more time goes by the harder it is to hold on to his doubts and his hurt, but he isn’t sure what that leaves him with. Forgiving her might be easier than it once seemed, but they’ve hurt each other enough by now that finding their way back won’t be easy no matter what O or Raven has to say about it.

Either way he is tired of having this conversation. He sees his sister so little these days that the last thing he wants to do is spend the time they have together in maudlin talks. So he groans exaggeratedly and says, “Alright look, I promise to think about it okay? So can you cut me some slack for today?”

“Well don’t think too long,” O admonishes him and he follows her eyes across the camp to where Clarke is standing among the clan leaders, smiling and talking and looking very much alone. “You aren’t the only one that’s hurting Bell.”

Her words stay with him for the rest of the day, and his eyes cannot stop straying to Clarke either. The new Commander is named, a younger girl from the Woods clan that Octavia whispers to him is a better choice than anyone expected, and the ceremony that follows is less intense than he imagined. It seems that the sky people are not the only ones tired of war, and even the Heda of the Ice Nation accepts the decision without a fight.

The biggest surprise comes when the new Commander asks Ryder if he would like to return to his people now that his duty is done and he refuses. Even Clarke looks stunned at that, though her shock quickly turns to a watery smile that makes the burly grounder blush and grumble as he makes his way back to her side. 

Seeing it shifts something in Bellamy too. He knows that the man must have had people he loved in Tondc, people who died if not at Clarke’s hand then at the expense of her leadership, and yet when Ryder looks at her Bellamy can now see it is with more than just a duty to protect. He clearly cares about her, doesn’t want her to be alone, and Bellamy feels shamed by it and thankful for it in equal measure. It is good to know that even with his stubbornness keeping him from her side these last few months she has had someone at her back.

When they ride home that night Bellamy stays close to her side this time. They ride quietly for almost an hour before he finds his voice, and even then it is only to point out the constellations overhead that he can name and to tell her the stories behind them, but it feels like a step in the right direction. The smile she gives him and her rapt attention the rest of the journey seem to agree.

 

________________________________________

 

There’s something happening in camp.

Even if the weird tension in the air wasn’t nearly palpable the whispers being passed around would have tipped him off, but Bellamy hasn’t been close enough to any of the conversations yet to find out exactly what it is that’s changed. While his first thought is to find Miller – the guy has a ridiculous investment in camp gossip – it is closely followed by the urge to seek Clarke out and ask her instead. 

As simple a thing as it is, it pleases him inordinately and he takes it as another sign that they are moving along in their reparations. Ever since the trip to New Tondc he’s made it a point to bump into her every few days, and to talk to her when he does. They haven’t had any deep conversations, and some days it is as awkward as remarking on the weather, but she’s stopped flinching when she sees him and they even had an argument the other day about cooking rotations which left them both grinning like idiots and confused the hell out of the Arkers nearby.

Mostly it just feels good to have her back in his life again, and while he knows there are still things left to say between them before they are truly okay for now he’s taking it one day at a time. Still, he keeps an eye out for her throughout the morning, thinking that whatever drama has been stirred up might make a perfect opportunity to engage her again.

He doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her though, and by the time he sits down for lunch he’s feeling grumpy, and doesn’t really want to think too closely about why. So he is happy when Miller and Monty sit down across from him, sure they will be able to distract him from thoughts of blonde hair and blue eyes (and maybe shed some light on the even more frenzied whispering that has grown as the day goes on).

What he doesn’t expect is grim faces and Miller’s terse, “So what’s the plan boss?”

Bellamy doesn’t even have time to raise an eyebrow in question before they’re joined by Jasper and Raven, both of whom are looking at him just as seriously and with as much expectation.

“What?” he says when they all just continue to stare at him.

“The plan,” Miller urges, “What are we gonna do about Clarke?”

“What’s wrong with Clarke?” he asks, still mostly confused but maybe a little worried now to.

Jasper’s eyes widen at that, and Raven throws up her hands in disgust while Miller’s stare just turns thoughtful and Monty looks confused.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with Clarke?” Jasper asks, “Haven’t you heard? Her mom kicked her out of camp!”

“ _What_!” Bellamy asks, or maybe shouts is the more accurate word. When no one answers quickly enough he growls. “Alright somebody better explain what the fuck is going on here.”

It’s Raven who speaks up though she still sounds disgruntled at having to bring him into the loop as if his ignorance is purposeful instead of simply unfortunate. “Abby called a council meeting this morning,” she says and he can hear the bitterness in her voice when she says the name. He remembers Kane trying to drag him along to that meeting too, though as usual these days he’d refused. He’s starting to regret that now. “She said that as we are no longer at war, it was time for our war leader to step down and hand control back over to the chancellor.”

“You mean time for Clarke to start deferring to her again,” Miller mutters angrily and Bellamy is inclined to agree, with the words and the tone.

Raven nods. “Basically. She then said that because Clarke essentially seized power in a coup she couldn’t remain on the council any longer at all. Clarke didn’t like that so much.”

The way Raven says this last bit paints a clear enough picture that Bellamy _really_ wishes he hadn’t missed that meeting.

“So how does this end with Clarke being kicked out of camp?” he asks, because as much as he’d like to hear about the epic fight he’s sure broke out, in the end that isn’t the most important part.

“Clarke insisted that if she had to step down then another representative for the 47 had to be put in her place,” she says, not quite meeting his eyes and he knows then that his staying away from the council hasn’t just affected Clarke but all of them. He pushes away the guilt of that for another time though as Raven continues. “Abby said that having me there was enough, and Clarke disagreed, said she wouldn’t step down without naming a replacement. Abby threatened to throw her in lock up, but I said I’d break her out.”

Monty thumps her on the back heartily at that and Raven smiles and shrugs though her expression turns grim again quickly enough. “In the end Abby decided that if Clarke couldn’t be controlled then she couldn’t be allowed to stay. If you ask me she’s just afraid of the fact that Clarke has more support around here than she does, but right now unfortunately Abby still has enough of the guard on her side to make things difficult.”

“So Clarke is leaving?” Bellamy asks as it finally starts to sink in, his stomach knotting up with dread.

Miller shakes his head. “Clarke already left. They escorted her to the gates this morning.”

Bellamy stares blankly at him, unable to comprehend the words as the dread expands from his stomach and washes through him in an icy wave. “Clarke is gone?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you dumbass,” she growls. 

“So what are we gonna do about it?” Jasper asks. “We’re gonna go after her right? Bring her back?”

Bellamy forces the awful image of Clarke walking out those gates alone from his mind and focuses. They need a plan, obviously, but the more he thinks about it the more bringing her back here doesn’t feel like the right one. Ever since the Ark fell from the sky things have gone from bad to worse, and while logically he knows that isn’t Abby Griffin’s fault, isn’t any of the Arker’s faults really, he still can’t help but wonder if maybe things would be better away from here. He remembers how it used to be, when it was the two of them leading together, and is surprised at the surge of emotion that runs through him at the memory. He wants that again, more than he expected, and what better way to continue to rebuild things between them than by rebuilding a society all their own? Together.

When he looks at the group of his friends around him he can’t help but grin, the last of his doubt and fear and hurt vanishing in the face of his surety. He loves her, he’d still give his life for her, so how can he not trust her with all the rest of it? It’s time for them all to leave the past behind them, and so he lays out his plan.

 

________________________________________

 

In the end the group that gathers at the gates the next morning is larger than he had expected. Not only have most of the 47 showed up, but some adults as well – including, perhaps most surprisingly of all, Marcus Kane.

“I’m ready for something new,” he says with a shrug when Bellamy sends him a quizzical look, and well, that’s kind of the point of all of this really so who is Bellamy to deny him that chance?

Chancellor Griffin doesn’t meet them at the gates which is a blessing, though as soon as he leads his people out the guards hurry to shut them once more, the zing of electricity singing back through the wires a moment later. He recognizes it for what it is, a line in the sand that they are no longer welcome to cross. The thought makes his smile sharp. He’s never been so sure he’s on the right side of the line before, and it feels liberating to be there now.

No one questions if he knows where he’s going, not even all these weeks of silence between them seems to have broken the trust his people have in his ability to find Clarke wherever she is. Even Ryder, walking resolutely at his side, doesn’t ask him where he plans to go. The grounder had been distinctly unhappy when he found out Clarke was forced to leave while he was out with a hunting group, and privately Bellamy is pretty sure that if Abby wasn’t Clarke’s mom there might have been a little more bloodshed involved. He wonders briefly what this new split is going to mean for their alliance with the Woods clan, but that is a problem for another day. Right now he just needs to get to her, hopes he hasn’t taken too long.

When they get closer to their destination he can hear the excited murmuring from the group behind him as they start to recognize landmarks. A few miles later the ragged timber gates of the dropship camp come into view and the murmurs turn to excited whoops as the kids break into a run, heading back to their familiar grounds. Bellamy follows more slowly, glad to see when he approaches that the winter rains and snow have washed away much of the destruction so the ash and bone that had littered the yard is mostly gone. There will be plenty to do still to finish the job, but for now it is enough to not feel like they are walking on a graveyard in the moment of return. It feels instead like coming home.

Once most of the kids are inside the gates he hands his pack off to Miller and calls Raven and Kane over to give instructions on setting up tents and a fire pit for the evening until they can start the serious work of constructing something permanent. With a nod they head off to start rounding up the others, and Bellamy catches Ryder’s eye from where he is standing in front of the dropship itself. It occurs to him that the grounder must have lost people here, too, but if there is any sadness at returning to this place the man doesn’t show it. Instead he tilts his head out toward the forest in question and Bellamy nods once in answer before turning and jogging back under the trees. Their people may be home but his job isn’t over yet.

He’s not sure how he knows she’ll be there but he does, and is rewarded when after an hour’s hike he finds her sitting underneath the tree. _Their_ tree, really, the one where she put him back together again when he needed her most. He feels a wash of shame knowing that he wasn’t able to do the same for her all those weeks ago, but maybe it really is better late than never. At least he hopes so.

When he sits next to her she hardly startles, turning instead to give him a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she admits and he winces at that but can’t deny she had a reason to doubt him.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he tells her. She tilts her head until it is resting on his shoulder, a warm anchoring weight that he feel down to his toes, and he thinks she knows he doesn’t just mean this past day.

For a long time they just sit in silence, and when he reaches for her hand she doesn’t shy away but clings back just as tightly. The sun is starting to set, fiery reds and oranges building in the sky, when she speaks again.

“I still see them,” she whispers. “Every night when I close my eyes I see everyone we’ve lost, every death I’ve caused. I don’t know if I made the right choices Bellamy, but I have to learn to live with them. Even if you can’t forgive me I have to find a way to forgive myself.”

There is the threat of tears in her tone but her voice remains steady and he is amazed all over again at her strength. She is not that girl that landed here on earth with him anymore, but he’s not that boy any longer either and he is more than ready to figure out who they are now. Who they can be together, if she’ll have him.

“I can’t forgive you,” he says, holding her hand tight when she stiffens and starts to pull away, “I can’t forgive you Clarke because there is nothing for me to forgive. If you want my forgiveness you can have it, but you were right. You did what had to be done and none of us would be alive if it wasn’t for you.”

She gives a shaky sigh at his words and collapses back against him, and he can feel the warmth of her tears through the fabric of his sleeve.

“We aren’t all alive though,” she says, voice choked with loss. “I didn’t save us all.”

It’s true and he can’t make that better for her, not even by telling her that no one could have saved all of them. Instead he simply says, “You did good here Clarke.”

She laughs, a watery sound but with happiness underneath, to hear her own words given back to her, and he turns to press a kiss against her hair. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“You’re here now,” she whispers. When she says it, it sounds like enough. With her here by his side and all his people near, it feels like enough too.

“I’m here now,” he agrees. “We’ll figure the rest out together. When you’re ready.”

Clarke presses her face into his neck and breathes out shakily against his skin. After a moment he can feel the curve of her smile there too. They sit together until the moon is high above them, and while Bellamy knows that the hard choices and impossible decisions aren’t yet behind them, this choice here – to be at her side – is always going to be the right one.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a hard time with Rubicon, which I think was pretty much the point. I'm still not sure how to dive completely into Clarke's headspace after, and I'm pretty sure the writers aren't going to drag out Bellamy's own feelings on it all this long, but I wanted to explore it anyway, this war I think he's going to fight between understanding her and feeling angry because of Octavia. I don't know if I did that justice here at all but it felt cathartic to write. Title from the song of the same name by Joshua Radin.


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